Cora pauses in her kitchen, halfway between the island where she wrestled her Hot Pocket onto a plate and the microwave. She looks back over at her phone, projecting her brother’s voice into the room.
“Cora?” He sounds concerned, almost as though he’s not sure the call hasn’t dropped and she takes a breath before stepping back closer.
“I’m here.” She tries to collect her thoughts before she continues. “I thought the city tore it down a long time ago.”
“They did. But we still technically own the land under it.”
“And you’re selling it.”
“Yeah. Back to the town, so they can have full use of the Preserve. I went down into the vault under the house and cleared it out of anything important, so there’s nothing we have to worry about anyone stumbling on.”
Right. Because that’s the only concern about selling the piece of land that was once their home. It hasn’t been for over a decade now. Cora hasn’t set foot on it since the fire that killed their pack, but there’s something about it being no longer theirs that twists in the pit of her stomach. She doesn’t know what to say, and while Derek lets the silence stretch again, she knows he’s waiting for some kind of answer.
“Do you not want me to?”
“No.” That response comes a little too quickly, but it’s an honest one. She doesn’t want to go back to that house. She doesn’t want to rebuild. “Have you told Peter?”
“He told me he didn’t care, which means he probably cares more than he wants to let on.” That’s likely accurate enough, as far as their uncle is concerned. “But I think it’s the best choice for all of us. Really allow us to move on. And I still have the loft, so it’s not like you’ll never have a home in Beacon Hills.”
Beacon Hills is another place that she never really envisioned setting foot in again, but she knows that wouldn’t be true forever. Eventually, something would call her back. The Hales usually were.
“When does the sale go through?”
“End of the month.” Derek pauses. “If you want to come say goodbye, you should.”
“I’ll think about it.”
She does her best to sound non-committal, but once she’s off the phone, she books the plane tickets before her Hot Pocket fully cools.
* * * * *
Standing on the Beacon Hills Preserve on a full moon is both one of her favorite memories and one of her worst simultaneously. She remembers streaking through the woods on a cool night, watching the glow of the soft silver light on the trees as she chased after her pack mates. By the time she was old enough, Derek and Laura were too old and too cool to spend the time with her, but she still had kids her age who liked to dart through the trees, taking in the senses and sounds of their newly awakened senses.
Then, there’s the night Allison let her and Boyd out of the bank vault, and she lost complete control of her wolf. She’s lucky that she and Boyd didn’t kill anyone. She knows she could never forgive herself if she had.
Tonight is neither of those things. It’s a bittersweet quiet, the stillness of the Preserve combined with all the memories contained there. It’s like a vice around her heart, all the things she’s lost in these woods. Her mother, father, family—all of it up in smoke. The cleared land plot makes it appear the Hales were never there, save for the freshly turned dirt where Derek likely pulled up the old vault.
It’s a good thing, she tells herself. The pain and sadness can fade away and a new cycle will begin. All she has to do is let it go.
“It’s always harder than it looks, isn’t it?”
She doesn’t turn to the familiar voice. Peter comes to stand next to her, mimicking the hands in the pockets of his expensive jacket. Cora resists the urge to look at him, as she doesn’t want to remember who he is now, and holds on to the person she needs him to be right now.
“I didn’t take you for the sentimental type.”
“I’m not. At least, not anymore. But there’s something about this land, where our family lived for decades, no longer being ours.” He shrugs. “The end of an era, I suppose.”
“I guess.” Cora takes a deep breath, tipping her head back and finally meeting his eyes. “It’s weird because I have a home. But I also don’t.”
“Home was never about the building. Home was always about the pack.” He tips his head to the side. “Regretting your chance to take Scott McCall up on his offer?”
She snorts, because no. Not really. Scott wasn’t a good alpha for her, at least not. But maybe things have changed. Maybe they changed. Or maybe she’s just as much as a lone wolf as she always was, and would trade being on the outside with her siblings to being on the outside with Scott and his friends.
“I’m fine on my own,” she sighs. “But I guess sometimes you don’t want to be.”
Peter nods, before tipping his head to the side. “I’m heading to Rome after this. You can stuff your face with real pasta, not the tragic American kind.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You’re inviting me with you?”
He shrugs, turning to walk away. “Maybe I sometimes I don’t want to be alone either.”
Cora smirks, before jogging to catch up with him. “They still have pizza in Rome, right? I like the Chicago kind.”
Peter rolls his eyes. “Heathens, both of you. It’s like I taught you nothing.”
#130 ~ and for you, darling, i'll hang the moon ~ teen wolf ~ 967
Cora pauses in her kitchen, halfway between the island where she wrestled her Hot Pocket onto a plate and the microwave. She looks back over at her phone, projecting her brother’s voice into the room.
“Cora?” He sounds concerned, almost as though he’s not sure the call hasn’t dropped and she takes a breath before stepping back closer.
“I’m here.” She tries to collect her thoughts before she continues. “I thought the city tore it down a long time ago.”
“They did. But we still technically own the land under it.”
“And you’re selling it.”
“Yeah. Back to the town, so they can have full use of the Preserve. I went down into the vault under the house and cleared it out of anything important, so there’s nothing we have to worry about anyone stumbling on.”
Right. Because that’s the only concern about selling the piece of land that was once their home. It hasn’t been for over a decade now. Cora hasn’t set foot on it since the fire that killed their pack, but there’s something about it being no longer theirs that twists in the pit of her stomach. She doesn’t know what to say, and while Derek lets the silence stretch again, she knows he’s waiting for some kind of answer.
“Do you not want me to?”
“No.” That response comes a little too quickly, but it’s an honest one. She doesn’t want to go back to that house. She doesn’t want to rebuild. “Have you told Peter?”
“He told me he didn’t care, which means he probably cares more than he wants to let on.” That’s likely accurate enough, as far as their uncle is concerned. “But I think it’s the best choice for all of us. Really allow us to move on. And I still have the loft, so it’s not like you’ll never have a home in Beacon Hills.”
Beacon Hills is another place that she never really envisioned setting foot in again, but she knows that wouldn’t be true forever. Eventually, something would call her back. The Hales usually were.
“When does the sale go through?”
“End of the month.” Derek pauses. “If you want to come say goodbye, you should.”
“I’ll think about it.”
She does her best to sound non-committal, but once she’s off the phone, she books the plane tickets before her Hot Pocket fully cools.
Standing on the Beacon Hills Preserve on a full moon is both one of her favorite memories and one of her worst simultaneously. She remembers streaking through the woods on a cool night, watching the glow of the soft silver light on the trees as she chased after her pack mates. By the time she was old enough, Derek and Laura were too old and too cool to spend the time with her, but she still had kids her age who liked to dart through the trees, taking in the senses and sounds of their newly awakened senses.
Then, there’s the night Allison let her and Boyd out of the bank vault, and she lost complete control of her wolf. She’s lucky that she and Boyd didn’t kill anyone. She knows she could never forgive herself if she had.
Tonight is neither of those things. It’s a bittersweet quiet, the stillness of the Preserve combined with all the memories contained there. It’s like a vice around her heart, all the things she’s lost in these woods. Her mother, father, family—all of it up in smoke. The cleared land plot makes it appear the Hales were never there, save for the freshly turned dirt where Derek likely pulled up the old vault.
It’s a good thing, she tells herself. The pain and sadness can fade away and a new cycle will begin. All she has to do is let it go.
“It’s always harder than it looks, isn’t it?”
She doesn’t turn to the familiar voice. Peter comes to stand next to her, mimicking the hands in the pockets of his expensive jacket. Cora resists the urge to look at him, as she doesn’t want to remember who he is now, and holds on to the person she needs him to be right now.
“I didn’t take you for the sentimental type.”
“I’m not. At least, not anymore. But there’s something about this land, where our family lived for decades, no longer being ours.” He shrugs. “The end of an era, I suppose.”
“I guess.” Cora takes a deep breath, tipping her head back and finally meeting his eyes. “It’s weird because I have a home. But I also don’t.”
“Home was never about the building. Home was always about the pack.” He tips his head to the side. “Regretting your chance to take Scott McCall up on his offer?”
She snorts, because no. Not really. Scott wasn’t a good alpha for her, at least not. But maybe things have changed. Maybe they changed. Or maybe she’s just as much as a lone wolf as she always was, and would trade being on the outside with her siblings to being on the outside with Scott and his friends.
“I’m fine on my own,” she sighs. “But I guess sometimes you don’t want to be.”
Peter nods, before tipping his head to the side. “I’m heading to Rome after this. You can stuff your face with real pasta, not the tragic American kind.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You’re inviting me with you?”
He shrugs, turning to walk away. “Maybe I sometimes I don’t want to be alone either.”
Cora smirks, before jogging to catch up with him. “They still have pizza in Rome, right? I like the Chicago kind.”
Peter rolls his eyes. “Heathens, both of you. It’s like I taught you nothing.”